


Good Omens of Bad Times Ahead

by CarryOnWriting



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alcohol, Angel Ryan Bergara, Based On Buzzfeed Unsolved, Comedy, Crossover, Demon Shane Madej, Drunkenness, Gen, I had this saved as good bromens, One Shot, Shane Being an Asshole, apocolypse, based on good omens, demon shane, good omens - Freeform, if you can call it that, ryan/shane if you squint, the goul boys are at it again!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-04
Updated: 2019-06-08
Packaged: 2020-02-23 19:29:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18708520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CarryOnWriting/pseuds/CarryOnWriting
Summary: In which the Apocalypse is happening and the goul boys do not like the sound of that very much.





	1. In the Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> Ok, so this is my first fic... ever. Seriously, I have no clue what I'm doing, so constructive critisism would be absolutely welcome! I wish to improve and the only way I can do that is with help from you guys. Other than that, hope you enjoy my two favourite couples merged into one universe!
> 
> Also, my original title for this was Good Bromens...  
> Yeah, many a reason why that was not the title

There weren’t many people around in St James’ park. That was most likely because it was 3 O’clock in the morning, and everyone was either asleep or not wishing to spend the night at a local park. The only ones to enjoy it would be the ducks, but even they had the better judgement to stay in their nests. A storm was coming, (impossible for London, I know), and they would rather stay high and dry, thank you very much.  
The stone pathways were deserted; all but a single bench, facing the grey water, was the same. Atop said bench was a man, dressed in a sharp suit with thick-rimmed sunglasses, despite the time of day. These spectacles hid the slight crease between his eyebrows that would have suggested to any onlooker that he was in deep thought. Or, he was regretting eating that second hotdog at the airport. Either way, he was tapping his foot impatiently and checking his expensively sleek watch. He appeared to be waiting for something. Or someone.

This someone appeared at the end of the path, walking in a manner that made it seem they were trying very hard to be calm and collected, but were actually in a great rush to be somewhere and had no time to buy the latest newspaper. This was usual for any native Londoner, but the true worry that was written on his face would have made even the most stubborn old lady move out of the way. The man came to a stop suddenly before the bench.

“What’s wrong Madej? You said it was urgent?” The man fluttered his hand in front of his chest, “Have you heard from them?”

The other man gave him a sure look, “Take a seat.” The man immediately did as he was told. They looked quite a pair. The man in the suit, who was called Madej, was strikingly tall, whereas the other man was the exact opposite. Sitting down, there was a good 4 inches between them, a fact that the shorter, if asked, would have insisted was in fact 2. Even their dress was dissimilar, with the latter’s tartan cardigan being a sharp contrast to a tailored suit jacket.

“Bergara, I’ve been given an assignment from Below,” Madej said almost solemnly. If you listened closely, you could almost hear a rejected hiss between his syllables. “It’s not good news, unfortunately.” 

“Oh dear, what have they made you do this time? Tempt a priest? I’ve told you, they’re under my protection an-” He was interrupted by a swift slap o the back of his head.

“Ow! What did you do that for?” He rubbed the offending spot. 

“To shut you up. You worry too much. We need to get back to the subject at hand,” he gave a pause, (Madej was never one to give up a dramatic moment) and then said simply, as if discussing what to have for lunch, “The Apocalypse.”

“What?” Bergara shrieked, “Can it really be happening? So soon?”

“It has been 6,000 years. What did you expect?” This was also said in a manner of nonchalance, as if his mere statement wouldn’t have boggled any passer-by’s mind. 

“It’s just… I would have liked to spend some more time on Earth,” he said melancholically, before saying with a smirk, “Before my side wins, of course.” 

“Your side? Ha! You lot have your flaming swords so far up your own asses that I’m surprised you can still swing them about!” Madej taunted, but with a lighter tone you could only get from knowing one another from the beginning of creation. 

“Well at least we don’t give commendations for sleeping over on an entire century! Sloth may be a virtue to you, but it’s still a sin in my books.”

Madej turned to him, raising an eyebrow in a look of disbelief, leaning an elbow over the back of the bench. “And you don’t take part in any sins yourself?”

Bergara shifted uncomfortably in his seat like a child caught stealing from the cookie jar. “I can’t possibly know what you mean.”

Madej listed on his fingers, “Well for starters, gluttony. I’ve seen you eat an entire share bucket of popcorn- without remorse. Pride, with your collection of horror movies. Wrath, when someone tried to buy you said collection of movies. Shall I go on?” He finished with a telling grin.

“Well you’re not so perfect yourself! Just the other day I saw you helping an old man cross the street,” Madej blushed.

“I was pushing him into the traffic, not helping him!” He crossed his arms and pouted. He tried to change the subject, “Anyway, we’re getting side-tracked. Just last night I was asked by Satan himself to deliver the Antichrist to the American Cultural Attaché in Los Angeles.”

“So, you were telling the truth… the end times are upon us.” Bergara said solemnly.

“Yes, so it would seem. I’m actually quite upset over the whole thing,” Madej inspected his nails, “You’d think I would be expecting it.”

“Yes, well, it all had to happen someday. It is ineffable after all.” He said with an air of certain uncertainty. There was a moment of silence between them. A quiet contemplation. Then, suddenly: “We have to do something about it.” Bergara looked at his partner in astonishment. 

“You don’t mean...?” 

“Yes, go against God’s plan and stop the end of the world,” he said with a slight waver in his voice, betraying his scepticism.

“That is simultaneously the bravest and stupidest thing you have ever said,” Bergara looked at the man next to him, mouth agape, “You seriously cannot be suggesting we go against God’s will!”

“I’ve done it before,” He said this with the tone of someone who didn’t so much as fall from God’s good graces but saunter vaguely away, “I could probably do it again.”

“Well, I will have no part of it,” Bergara made to stand up, “I will not be roped into whatever demonic scheme you make and risk falling myself.”

Madej put a hand on his knee, “Hold on, at least think about it,” he asked pleadingly through his glasses, “Think about everything you have to lose if the Apocalypse goes through.”

Bergara closed his eyes for a brief moment and gave a barely supressed shudder, “It would be… less than pleasant.”

“Exactly!” He said, “No more old horror movies, no more cute little sushi restaurants where they know you. Does Heaven even have a Weatherspoon’s? Hell certainly doesn’t!” If there was one thing a demon was good at, it was tempting.

“So, what do you say?”

Bergara gave a pause, quietly considering his next step, then sighed, “How good is your American accent?”

The other man grinned from ear to ear, “Terrible. Yours?”

“Absolutely dreadful,” the smaller man gave a tender smile.

“Then I guess we’d better start packing.”

It started to rain.


	2. The Bit After the Beginning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A plan is planned to stop the Great Plan with an even Greater plan planned up by expert planners.  
> Oh and they get a bit drunk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow! I never expected so many people to read this! I hope that you're liking it so far. It was meant to be a oneshot, but I felt bad in case someone wanted a continuation. So, here it is! Please remember to comment and tell me how I'm doing. It would really mean a lot!

Madej hated flying, for somewhat obvious reasons. However, the first-class tickets they had managed to attain 2 minutes before boarding softened the blow slightly. The original owners of said tickets had come down with an unexpected (but not lethal, at Bergara’s request) stomach bug, leaving behind 2 padded seats with extra leg room (with a reclining function for just an extra £99.99).

The champagne, which had not been filled up since the plane took off, still seemed full. And, despite the plane’s 3-drinks-or-we-literally-ground-you rule, the flight attendants paid the pair no mind. The extra alcohol also put a damper on the whole “the world is ending” thing, which the two were silently grateful for. 

“So,” Madej slurred slightly, taking a sip of Lidl’s Best which just at that moment decided to be a Dom Perignon 1996 (because although he was a demon, he still had standards), “everything’s gone to shit. We need a… a…?”

“Scone?” Bergara was slurring particularly more so.

“No, a thing! A… what’s it called? What do you do when everything’s gone tera- teri- bad?”

“A plan?” Bergara was now discovering the reclining function on his chair (for an extra £99.99). He was promptly slouched halfway down the back of the seat by the time it took him to make this suggestion.

“YES!” The demon stood up sharply, only to hit his head on the five-foot ceiling. It was at times like this he would hate his height, if only he had enough of a thought process at the moment to form the correct syllables.

“Ow!” He said, rubbing the offending spot while slinking back into his chair, “Yeah, one of those.”

“I do rather think we need one. The rat infest… problem at my shop has gotten a bit out of foot.” Bergara had been on Earth since the very Beginning. He enjoys the food, the music, the cute little sushi shops where they know your name. However, he never got the hang of human idioms.

“No, no, not that! The end of the world! Armageddon and the Horsemen and all the dolphins getting boiled alive!” A strict-looking woman in the next isle over gave Madej a stern look before returning to her Daily Mail. After all, she had heard stranger things on a British Airways flight.

“Love dolphins, I do. I had a hand in reptiles- making them, I mean.”

“Not reptiles. Molluscs, I think.” They both took another swig of champagne.

“I can’t deal with this drunk. We need to s-sober up.” The taller man-shaped-being agreed.

They both winced as the alcohol drained from their system.

“That’s much better.” The demon nodded in agreement. They both placed their empty glasses down on the table.

“So, Armageddon is coming in 11 years, and we’re going against The Great Plan to stop it. So, we need an even greater plan to stop the Great Plan, so we’d better start planning.”

Bergara shook his head and mumbled something under his breath about thanking the Almighty for him being sober.

“Well, we know that the Antichrist, Destroyer of Worlds, the Lord of Darkness, etcetera, is. I say that we try and… well… tempt him.” He looked sheepish at this idea.

“You? Tempting someone?” Madej looked just as confused as his counterpart, “Isn’t that my job?”

“Well, yes, but I think that Upstairs would turn the other cheek to a bought of temptation if it was for the greater good.”

Of course, Bergara had no idea what ‘the greater good’ entailed. After all, the ineffable plan was, well, ineffable. It was not his place to understand it, but he might as well try and apply it to his everyday life.

“So, what you’re saying is that I nudge him towards the dark, and you nudge him towards the light?” He looked out of the window, considering this plan and if it was worth the bath full of holy water he might receive from Downstairs.

“Yes.” He turned towards the other, and his face lit up in realisation, “We could be like Godfathers!”

Madej attempted to ignore the joy on the other’s face but smiled despite himself. “Ok then, I heard that they need a nanny anyway.”

Bergara fluttered his hands, “Do you think they need a handyman? A caretaker?”

“With a bit of Heavenly intervention, possibly.” As he said this, he was suddenly very interested in the clouds outside. He was most definitely not using this as an excuse to hide his face. And if his cheeks were slightly red, then well, that was nobody’s business.

The rest of the flight was uneventful, with Madej sleeping through the remainder and Bergara watching the films available on his iPad (one of Madej’s better inventions, not that he would tell him that). The only time the demon woke up was during the landing, where he decided to attack the poor, unsuspecting armrests. Because, as he would tell you, it’s not the Fall that gets you, it’s the landing.


End file.
